Read Online A Lady’s Secret by Jo Beverley - Free Book Online

inhaled damp evening air. “Thank you, madame. God bless your holy kindness.”
    The woman grunted, but seemed to expect Petra to return to the kitchen. Petra needed a moment to pull herself together. “I have a few prayers I must say, if you don’t mind.”
    Mère Goulart shrugged. “I’ll send for you when the meal’s ready.”
    She left, dragging the curtain closed behind her, but at least left the candle. Petra pulled back the coverlet but saw, as feared, a stained sheet. She hastily covered it again. She’d sleep on top of the coverlet, wrapped in her cloak. It would be chilly, but she could offer up all her sufferings as penance for her many sins.
    Especially that of responding to Robin Bonchurch’s kiss.
    Not only was it foolish, it was wrong. She might not truly be a nun, but she’d worn the habit for three years and had always believed that as long as she did so, she should follow the rule of the Community of Saint Veronica—the rule of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Yes, she’d made the right choice to avoid night out there with that man and temptation.
    She went to the window and inhaled fresh air—then laughed to herself. In other circumstances, the smell of a farmyard would not have been so welcome.
    Her spurious brother, Robin, was right. She should have stayed with Lady Sodworth. Even though she’d have had to take care of the little monsters, she’d be warm and fed. As for Varzi, she must have imagined him. The world wasn’t short of round men of medium height who dressed plainly, but she’d leapt to a conclusion, acted impetuously, and was being suitably punished. She had a cold, damp, dirty night ahead of her.
    The view outside was equally forbidding. The walls of the old house were feet thick and the window chest high, restricting her view to the rectangle in front of her. All she could see was mud, sheds, and the high wall with cloudy twilight beyond. Were the men still out there? Ridiculous to think they weren’t, but she had to check.
    She hooked her arms over the sill, jumped, and pulled herself up to balance there. Laughter almost tipped her over. If her hostess returned, how could she explain this? Obligatory convent exercises? Laughter died because it hurt her ribs, but she had the reassuring glimpse she sought.
    Reassuring but painful.
    Four shapes sat around a cheery fire. When they laughed, she longed to be with them. She freed one arm to wave, but no one saw her so she slid back down to her feet and brushed flaked stone off her habit, stupidly close to tears.
    “You looked like a medieval princess in a tower pleading for rescue.”
    She spun around, and there he was, arms on the sill, looking in, dimples in his cheeks. Coquette sat on the sill at his elbow, ears twitching. Petra could almost imagine the dog was wrinkling her nose at the smell.
    “What are you doing here?” Petra asked, keeping her voice low. She didn’t want to be heard in the kitchen.
    “Coquette saw you wave and insisted. I think she misses female company.”
    Petra stroked the pretty dog. “I doubt it. It’s you she loves.”
    “Then she’s a fool. If there was any meat on her I’d sell her for soup.”
    Petra shook her head at him, but she was smiling just for the pleasure of his company. “You take good care of her.”
    “I’m a dutiful fellow burdened by desirous females. So, what do you desire, princess? Rescue?”
    She remembered why she’d needed to be away from him for this night. “No, of course not.”
    He peered past her. “Not the most inviting chamber.”
    “They’re poor.”
    “The poor can be clean.”
    “So can the rich, and they’re often not.”
    “True enough. Are you all right?” he asked seriously.
    Petra eased back the curtain to be sure no one was in the room beyond.
    When she turned back, his eyes were watchful. “Why the caution?”
    “I don’t want to hurt their feelings.”
    “But?”
    “They’re a strange lot.”
    “Strange? In what way?”
    “I